


The embrace of the Serpent

by Lumeriel



Category: Onyx Equinox (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood (cos... you know!), Blood Drinking, Gay Sex, Human Sacrifice, Hybrid representation of Quetzalcoatl, M/M, Sibling Incest, implied blood as lube
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-16 22:29:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28838568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lumeriel/pseuds/Lumeriel
Summary: Years have passed since Tezcatlipoca lost the bet. Humanity was saved, the doors to the Underworld closed and he himself only survives by the mercy of the victor. Mercy? He would never accept it if it was just mercy."Why would I risk the humanity that I hold dear, my power... never to see my twin brother again... for one being? Why would anyone commit such nonsense?”
Relationships: Quetzalcoatl/Tezcatlipoca
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	The embrace of the Serpent

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rose_Thornborn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rose_Thornborn/gifts).
  * A translation of [El abrazo de la Serpiente](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28838733) by [Jadhy666 (Lumeriel)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lumeriel/pseuds/Jadhy666). 



> Sorry, Rose_Thornborn, I'm sure it didn't turn out exactly how you wanted it (I guess we were craving for Tezcatlipoca in the role of wife); but I hope this turned out you like the same.

The sound of drums echoes in the room. The music - vibrant, vigorous - is an invocation and a gift. But the attention of the man sitting in the dark is not on the rhythm of the hands striking the fur covering. His ear is attentive to the soft strumming of the satin scales on the slabs, the sinuous gliding of the rings between liquid threads. With his eyes closed and his head leaning against the wall, with his back to the ceremony hall, Tezcatlipoca can draw the image in his mind without seeing it.

The melody grows in intensity. The scent of blood is so strong that the god clenches his jaws in an attempt to ignore the thirst that burns his throat and his tongue.

Years. Years have passed since he lost that bet and renounced his sacrificial blood.

With a grunt of rage, Tezcatlipoca moves away from the column and surrounds it, finally facing the scene in the living room. This time, he can't control the low roar his mouth parts with to reveal jaguar fangs.

Quetzalcóatl dances before the stone altar where blood and human viscera are mixed. His naked torso is streaked with threads of blood that does not belong to him. On his head, instead of the usual silver hair, red and blue feathers grow, fluttering with every movement. From his hips, just below his navel, his lithe, lean body transforms into an emerald-green tail, whose scales gleam between the light from the cauldrons and the blood that moistens them in places.

The movements of the god of air are graceful and voluptuous: his human torso waddles, arms arched above his head as his serpent's tail traces rings on the ground, rippling as if across the sky.

Tezcatlipoca has seen this scene for too many years now - a part of him knows that Quetzalcóatl dances _for him_ \- yet, like the first time, fascination and hunger take the best of his consciousness. Everything he wants, everything he needs… _is there._

Quetzalcóatl arches his torso back and his huge golden eyes with elongated pupils capture the image of the other god. A half smile bares his sharp teeth. He spins on a ring from his tail and walks up to the altar.

The other god watches as he plunges his delicate hands into the offerings and removes a bloody bundle. Quetzalcóatl turns around and with an impulse of his serpent's tail, he finds himself before Tezcatlipoca, offering him with both hands a still beating heart.

Tezcatlipoca growls and hisses like a furious feline. His back stiffens and he clenches his fists to keep from attacking.

In all fairness, they are "his sacrifices". But it's been almost twenty years since he lost the bet with his brother. The gates to the underworld were closed, humanity was saved and he lost his power and the blood of his faithful. Now, when people offer blood for Tezcatlipoca, the lord of war and temptation, it is Quetzalcóatl who receives it.

Treason. Tezcatlipoca knows that he lost that bet because he was betrayed. Yáotl betrayed him, choosing, not Quetzalcóatl, as would have been logical, but that useless human, those mortal children.

A giddy hunger reminds him that he is almost as deadly as those who helped his brother win.

Viscous moisture permeates his lips and he recoils, before realizing that Quetzalcoatl is pressing the human heart against his clenched mouth. He licks his lips and the taste of blood awakens the beast inside of him. He jumps on the offering, without hesitation, ripping it from the almost too small hand of the other god. The laughter of the feathered serpent spills out amid the beat of the drums: Tezcatlipoca pretends not to hear it and devours the heart in two bites.

Like every time, hunger only grows after the first bite. His golden eyes search, only to stop at the figure before the altar.

Quetzalcóatl has abandoned his hybrid figure and now, a young man with silver hair and a graceful body remains standing before the stone table. He is naked except for the máxtlatl and half-sits on the rock edge.

Tezcatlipoca's gaze goes to the hearts that belong to him in his own right; but it lasts only a second. His attention is fixed again on the prey he desires, on the only offering that calms his hunger.

Quetzalcóatl smiles as he bows.

The first cut is at the ankle and the divine blood flows slowly. Tezcatlipoca sees the hidden humiliation; but he does not resist: he advances slowly until he falls to his knees and taking Quetzalcoatl's foot in his hands, he sticks his parted lips to the small wound.

The second cut is traced by the god's nails on the inside of his left thigh, so close and so far from his crotch that Tezcatlipoca can smell his sex when he drinks from there; but he can't touch it.

The first few occasions, he tried to resist this game. He refused to accept the crumbs, the compassion, the pity... the brotherly love that he forced Quetzalcóatl to save him after condemning him. But he underestimated the cunning of his brother, as always. What he would not accept from his rival was impossible for him to reject from his...

The third cut is on the belly, on one side of the navel, just above the cloth garment that surrounds the hips and Tezcatlipoca draws the line of the clothes with his nails before slowly licking the golden blood and sinking his fangs into the soft flesh.

Quetzalcóatl tastes of glory and damnation. His blood and his flesh are the temptations he could never resist.

He perceives the movement with which Quetzalcoatl's sex shakes, rises… and he sinks his teeth with more force in his belly, resisting the desire to lower a little and take that too, take it all. A moan echoes above him and slender fingers tangle in his hair, tearing the feather that adorns them with jade beads.

Tezcatlipoca throws his head back and gazes at the other god. Now Quetzalcóatl leans against the altar with his legs spread apart to make room for him and his face is a beautiful song - parted lips, cloudy eyes, thirsty fangs.

Tezcatlipoca digs his fingers into the god's thighs and with a muffled gasp, Quetzalcóatl brings a hand to his chest and makes a final cut, right over his heart.

They have played this game too many times already. They both know how it ends... and they both know what it means. In a way, Tezcatlipoca welcomes the opportunity to give in to wishes otherwise impossible, even if that means kneeling at Quetzalcoatl's feet to drink his blood.

He stands up slowly, like the wild beast that he still is, and looms over his companion, resting his hands on the stone at the sides of Quetzalcoatl's body, capturing him with his own body. He descends slowly and a growl through tight lips before eagerly attacking the small wound.

Quetzalcóatl hisses and twists, but not trying to run away. His hands tangle in Tezcatlipoca's black hair and short moans erupt from his throat.

With a low roar, Tezcatlipoca raises his head and with still bleeding lips, assaults the half-open mouth of the other god, who groans and responds with equal violence.

For an endless moment, they do nothing but kiss, devour, bite and drink –their blood mixing in their mouths.

Quetzalcóatl waves his hips, in an invitation and Tezcatlipoca slides his hands over his slender body to grasp the cloth and tear it. Now his fingers run over Quetzalcóatl’s bare flesh, pressing possessive marks on the firmness of his thighs and buttocks. He forces him to open up, to give in, to lie down on the stone wet from the sacrifices... and he goes up to the altar behind him, on his hands and knees.

Quetzalcóatl's moon hair is impregnated with dark blood and Tezcatlipoca buries his face in his neck to breathe in the aroma. Quetzalcoatl's hands explore his torso, skillful, familiar, unleashing a shudder of pleasure and anticipation. When they find the skirt that still surrounds his hips, they tug impatiently until the fabric is torn.

Tezcatlipoca smiles against his warm skin. Always calm and leisurely, Quetzalcóatl loses control in his arms, under his body... and it is only fair that it be so.

Now the serpent god takes time to stroke the muscular back, trace with the tips of his fingers the vertebrae of Tezcatlipoca’s spine, press into the depression that precedes the firm rear. Tezcatlipoca flinches slightly as his fingers slide between his buttocks as Quetzalcoatl's rigid sex presses against his. The sharp nail of the serpent god tempts his entrance, tickles, plays ... and the roar in Tezcatlipoca's throat turns to gasp, to curse.

“Not today!” he growls violently as he catches his brother's forearm and pushes the caress away from him.

With one hand he grasps Quetzalcóatl's wrists and holds them above his head, ringed against the ceremonial stone.

"Not today," Quetzalcoatl clamored with a sigh that lifted his chest and made his narrow hips undulate.

Tezcatlipoca knows very well that the soft tone of the god of life and knowledge holds a promise _\- a threat -_ but he does not dislike it. He doesn't care... with Quetzalcoatl, he doesn't care.

A leg wraps around his waist, inviting him, challenging him. His cock finds its way without a guide. He presses against the wet, trembling entrance and refuses to imagine what lubricates the ease with which he sinks into the ring of flesh. He lets himself be devoured by his tight mouth — he feeds it with short thrusts. He bends over a whimpering Quetzalcoatl as he thrusts with his hips, forcing him to rise from the altar.

They don't always wait for sacrifices. Hunger is impregnated in Tezcatlipoca’s bones since the beginning of the world: how did Quetzalcóatl know it? He has no idea. They don't always hide behind the excuse of his survival. There are nights when they only take to not remember, not to pretend that he keeps saving resentment and that the other is proud of his triumph. There are nights when neither of them wants to pretend.

Tonight, Tezcatlipoca doesn't want to pretend.

He takes his lover with violence, with desperation, with blood and tears moistening his lips when he kisses him and licks him as if he could devour him –and he would; if that way he could keep him just for himself, he would. His sex grows inside Quetzalcóatl, hungry, asking for more - always more - claiming what he marked as _his_ at the beginning of the world. He frees Quetzalcoatl's hands only because he knows that they will get tangled in his hair, that they will hold him against the body that shakes, groans and sobs with pleasure. He roars when Quetzalcoatl's teeth stab his shoulder, tear his flesh, mark him possessive ...

Ecstasy catches them together and their bodies tense, immobile. The burning seed of Tezcatlipoca generously waters Quetzalcóatl's entrails. Now, both legs of the god of the air embrace him, they hold him inside of him.

When Tezcatlipoca focuses his gaze again, he sees the soft glow of Quetzalcóatl's semen spilled on his belly - and he knows that in a moment he will descend, lick every last trace of moisture and claim for himself the sex that will harden against his tongue; but now he only lets himself be caught in the embrace of those slender and firm legs, in the hands that touch his hair tenderly, in the mouth that rises in search of his.

There is always a moment of calm after passion. There is always time for sweetness after lust. Tezcatlipoca knows that this is the true vulnerability of his rival and brother - for which the fate of humanity was staked, for which he bet his own power, for which he made plans, created alliances... and betrayed.

Of course they don't talk about it - not after Tezcatlipoca discovered it ten years ago ...

_"You did it for this, for me."_

_There is certainty in Tezcatlipoca's tone. Quetzalcóatl does not turn to look at him._

_"You planned everything for me to lose that bet and be at your mercy. It wasn't the blood of my sacrifices that you were really after: it was me. Why?”_

_Now Quetzalcóatl does turn his head slightly - just enough for Tezcatlipoca to see his exquisite profile and the calm glint of his divine serpent eyes._

_"Why would I risk the humanity that I hold dear, my power... never to see my twin brother again... for one being? Why would anyone commit such nonsense?”_

_Anger rises to Tezcatlipoca's lips in curses and insults; but before he gives them a voice, Quetzalcoatl is on his knees next to him and his hand cradles his cheek gently, reverently… with love._

He was furious for a day, a week… a month. He was furious because he didn't see it before, because he didn't discover Quetzalcoatl's heart even if he looked for it every day. But not anymore. Even if he is tied up, if he kneels down to take what is offered to him, he is no longer furious. He would have done something similar: he would have destroyed humanity for the god in front of him.

Tezcatlipoca rests his head on the shoulder of his lover and closes his eyes, satisfied that he is the only one rising Quetzalcoatl's darkness.


End file.
